


worries in the dark

by Zekkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Character Study, Chirolinguistics, Established Relationship, F/F, Mentioned Painplay, Mentioned Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: Elita and her unit still believe that the only other living mechs on Cybertron are Decepticons; that there are no other Autobots alive in the entire universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Gasp, it's not actually smut. I couldn't swing it in this ficlet, which is fine! It turned into a character study I'm happy with as it's helped me understand these two characters much, much better.
> 
> I mean, it's not like G1 went out of its way to give them any kind of character or backstory, so I'm working almost entirely from scratch here. (Or, my usual warning: headcanons galore.)

Elita and Chromia share a berth not only for the convenience of comfort but out of a genuine need to conserve their fuel. Here in Kaon supplies are scarce despite the stockpiles Shockwave has been building, and their numbers are too few to risk even the barest hint of discovery.

So they share warmth between their chassis, helms and hands together. Their fields mingle, and away from the rest of their unit Elita lets her fears out to show in her field, and Chromia shares her own. There's the grief that Cybertron is dead, the entirety of their species decimated to what Shockwave controls.

There is fear that one day they will be discovered and destroyed or worse. There is the constant threat of starvation and permanent deactivation, brought about by Shockwave's security systems resetting at some crucial moment.

There is the fact that Cybertron still has yet to travel within the range of any stars. There are only pinpricks of light in the skies, and it has been so many stellar cycles since they last saw any starlight - 

Chromia touches Elita's lips, field deliberately changing.

Elita tilts her head slightly, optics opening but not turning on any lights - Chromia is a dim outline to her, visible only because she's so close.

Chromia speaks through their clasped hands: ;We're going to survive.;

;Yes,; Elita says. It was never in doubt. They both know that they are fortunate: Shockwave is careless, arrogant in his custody of an empty planet - and he _is_ somehow manufacturing energon. There is a secret to be found, and they are a unit built for daring raids behind Decepticon lines.

;Up for a little cable-swapping?; Chromia asks, and Elita smiles in the dark.

;Always.; She turns her hand, catching her unspooling cable as it deploys, and offers it to Chromia's hand, helping link it into the ports that dot their wrists. Here - the connection is intimate, and overloads don't require the build-up of precious charge. They clasp hands again, and Elita leans forward to kiss Chromia, savoring pressure and the flick of Chromia's glossae against her lips.

Chromia's moving through her coding, scanning her for errors as she does the same, requisite checks before they let themselves have fun, sending first one sensation - heat and quick fingers - and then another - the sharp sting of wires being pierced - 

Elita's grip tightens as she sends more, recalling the taste of Chromia's fuel drunk from willing lines, the pain and pleasure they had shared while exploring the enjoyment of damaging each other. There had been laughter later, when they'd patched each other up, two young warriors practicing their skills and learning to trust each other.

Nostalgia clouds their fields, and Chromia pulls one of her vibro-blades from its sheath, delicately tracing a line down the length of Elita's forearm.

Threat; promise. They don't have the lights for it now, but in the future - when Shockwave is captive and Cybertron is theirs - Elita leans forward, kissing Chromia again, biting her. She won't submit easily - and they'll enjoy the fight, and the repairs afterwards.

;Promise?; Chromia asks against her arm as their cables unhook, coiling back into their frames.

;Promise,: Elita answers, and the blade vanishes with a whisper as they snuggle closer together, dropping into recharge and dreaming of safety.


End file.
